Flown the coop

I am brilliant...whenever I am away from my blog. All these great ideas come to me when I am alone in my car or working away on a draft of something at work. I solve the world's problems, resolve my parenting dilemmas, and discover the best date idea for my hubby and me that I have had in weeks.

Then I get to the blog after bushwacking through the, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" jungle, scaling the, "Screaming, Bleeding, Skinned Knee" mountains,and swinging on an extension cord looped around the ceiling fan to narrowly miss the migrating pile of toxic laundry climbing up out of the basement laundryroom.

By the time I get to my computer, I have suffered multiple head wounds, a broken sense of purpose, and am watching all inspiration bleed out from my body through a severed creative artery.

Oh, well. At least I tried.

I am at the age where I read a popular magazine, see the face of some new twenty-something starlet and her latest highjinks and say, "Who's that?" Then realize, "Who cares?"

Newest T-Shirt Idea (borrowed from somewhere):

I live in my own little world. But, it's ok. They know me here.

So, I was on my way to work this morning, contemplating the voices in my head that tell me my problems are much more serious than they really are, when it occurred to me that might not be the case.

I struggle mightily with the constant vile critic in my brain that constantly picks on me and tells me the smallest mistake is the highest criminal offense.

Sometimes, I can put the creature in a box and dress it up in a big pink clown wig, green shoes,and a spongy red nose. This is viewed as a humiliation by the critic and it rolls up into a corner and mutters about fashion choices and how the shoes clash with the hair.

Ah well, if I didn't have these little companions in my brain, life would be so boring.

Moving on,

It was a glorious 4th for my family. What started out as a somewhat dismal and stifled attempt at having a good time evolved into the most exhilirating family water fight I can recall.

I don't quite have the words to describe the calculating brain my husband has when it comes to strategy and tactics. He is the expert chess player who knows his victims too well. He nonchalantly played my proclivities for sneak attack and my daughter's inherent desire for subterfuge into the most devasting miscalculation I have ever made.

What started as an innocent plot between my daughter and myself to split up and outflank my husband and soak him with the hose somehow turned into him holding the hose, my daughter turning it back on screaming, "Now Mommy! Now!" and me taking a hit full in the face, instead of the other way around.

How does he do that.

After that all bets were off; the swim suits came on, and I am sure the neighbors thought an ax murderer was wreaking havoc in our yard....for two hours.

I did achieve a small amount of revenge against my husband, although at a price. Also, a word to the wise: when a nine-year-old claims to be an ally and declares a truce, she is lying through her teeth.

Just sayin'......

A Twit Tweets for Tweety Bird

So now I'm a twit on Twitter. Don't know why. The blog slog is enough. But you never know what can be useful, or at least annoying to your closest friends. I am still waiting for the wetware implants for the direct cranial interface. Bet my kids get them before I do. They will probably have some sort of age limit or driver's test you will have to take in order to qualify.

My newest T-Shirt idea: Call me Granny one more time.....

Cheers all. Mo' later.

Simple, really

I realized a few years ago that most things in life are quite simple.

Simple steps are all it takes to achieve, to build, to resolve.

Simple, but not easy. Oh, definitely not easy. Nothing in life is easy.

Except chocolate, that's a no-brainer.

Egad! This Stinks!

Hey, who left their Blog on the floor?!?

Would someone please come in here and pick this up? Hey, guys?!?

I didn't leave this h.... Wait....

Uhmmm....Maybe this is mine.

Are you guys sure? Mine wasn't this color!

What?!? Well yes, I know things age over time...look at me!

Would you stop yelling and come in here? I can NOT hear you over the vaccuum cleaner!

What? Yes, now I can.

Okay, say that again....

Well you look like one too, so there.

Oh nevermind! You're right, this is mine. I thought I put it in the fridge.

I hate it when these things thaw out.

Checking In

Just checking in, Sportsfans. It's a balmy 65 degrees here today and the local fish and wildlife experts predict that global warming is increasing at such a rapid rate we will soon see Brachiosaurus and T. Rex return to their native Alaskan habitat; a habitat devoid of their kind for the last 100 million years.

Oh, goody! T. Rex! Just in time for hunting season.

The state of my mind

Wow, listen to one Enya song and suddenly your brain is freebasing irish ballads and trippin' on the cosmic meaning of it all. I would find this very entertaining if I wasn't the one posting it all. I don't believe in censoring myself, but I may need to take myself outside for a little talk. "Lay off the Enya, girl. You are crazy!"

I sing the stars and all the sky

Music has been a form of worship since people became an amoebic life form and swam in the sea. It has always been a part of something spiritual; a part of that-which-is-greater than us all.

It is the foundation for the ancient magic and has more power than all the nations. And yet, modern societies think of it as entertainment. They disavow responsibility for the energy it conjures, the spells it casts, and the doors it opens to forces we rarely see, and never believe in.

You can open the door and invite in light, or welcome darkness. Your words, your songs - all contain the energy of the multitudes. They are a mighty force and must be used with awareness, reverence, and respect.

Light or dark...your choice.

Surprise visit

Summer arrived on Saturday. It arrived like a neighbor who's been annoying you all winter and she suddenly shows up with a bouquet of flowers because she heard you haven't been feeling well.

Power tools and summer fun....

When I was a kid, summer fun meant sneaking out to the garage to try and cut two-by-fours on the table saw in order to build a boat so we could float down the creek. Yes, I still have all my fingers and toes......amazing!

Being an older mom means...

you hit menopause at the same time your kids hit puberty.

Doogan's doo doo

Well, I must admit the first official comment on my blog was an articulate counterpoint to my rant on Mr. Doogan and the right to anonymous free speech.


I feel strangely exposed and fascinated that someone is actually visiting this place other than me. However, Gerbeel Haamster, if and when I find out we know each other: beware! I will be forced to buy you a beer for being able to state an idea and write coherently about it. We are the last of a dying race (refer to obituary for journalism posted earlier in this blog).

An Email to AK Representative Mike Doogan

Dear Politician Mike Doogan:

I was going to start an anonymous blog about issues relating to mental health, parenting, and politics. But now I see my concerns about being outed and therefore at risk to lose my job, relationships, and my good standing in my community are well-founded.

Anonymity is a double-edged sword. Astro-turfing is unethical. Trying to discuss high-risk issues while wearing a scarf to protect my identity is not. By publicizing the name of the AK Mudflats author, you have guaranteed this woman will suffer. You had the legitimacy and sanctioning of the Anchorate Daily News to share your opinions and get paid to do it. You made that contract with the public from a position of privilege and safety. Many of us don’t enjoy those same luxuries.

I could lose my job for writing about volatile issues. So, I stay silent as do so many others. AK Mudlflats just didn’t want to be a target in a conservative, let’s-throw-water-on-war-protesting-old-ladies-in-Soldotna world. Congratulations. What a legacy you leave. Creating fear for those who would share an opinion in an environment guaranteed to be hostile.

Should a woman protesting the Taliban be forced to put her face, name, and phone number on her subversive blog? I guess that would be ethical and prove she wasn’t an astro-turfing minion. But then, the debate would be short-lived, as she would be killed by her family in the most brutal, incomprehensible way possible.

Your morals are self-serving and your perspective narcissistic. Your ethics are fluid according to your politics of the moment.

Anonymous voices of opposition save lives and encourage discussion. It is one of the most democratic (and safe) ways of overturning cruelty and injustice. Thanks for shutting the door. I am sure our own Alaskan politico-jihadists who feel that targeting a dissenting opinion with prejudice is a God-given right are very happy with your point of view.

Anonymous – Not anymore. And I am sure [this email] will come back to haunt me. Make sure you save all these emails and keep a log of who to attack next.

Looney Tunes

So, I don't talk much about parenting the Lemurs. (See inaugural blog post for background on Lemurs.)

This is because I know nothing about parenting. Let me rephrase that. I know how to parent infants and toddlers. Unfortunately, (well not unfortunately, but...nevermind) I have an almost seven-year-old and a nine-year-old.

Let me explain. Every mother now understands that the child you birthed is not the child you keep. She changes everyday. You figure out what food, clothing, sleep schedule, toy, friend, and favorite color she likes on Monday, and by Friday she is screaming like Fay Wray in King Kong about the absolute horror of touching any of the previously mentioned, must-have favorites.

The end result is you never have the same child twice. It took me a while to realize that children grow up. Sounds incredibly naive and self-centered, which I am, but it has taken me nine years to realize that children are meant to change on a daily, if not hourly, basis. That is their job, that is why they were made, and that is the one constant of the universe. They are never the same person twice.

Now an adult is fully formed and on the downhill slide of the roller coaster of life. Our brains are done growing (a real handicap) and we are who we are, plus or minus a few life-altering growth experiences.

We are set in our ways, move in straight lines, and like to have things remain the same, at least when it comes to coffee and getting sleep every night.

Children are designed to generate a new life-altering experience every five minutes, usually with great fanfare, drama, and occasionally the risk of imminent death. This is designed to exponentially add to the amount of gray hair on a mother's head.

Now that I have realized children grow up, I am petrified. I don't know anything about ten-year-olds. And one almost seven-year-old is different from another. So not only does every child change, every child changes in her own way.

The things I learned from my oldest daughter have absolutely no application to the whims and whistles of my youngest. There is no manual for being a new mother because they are obsolete with each child.

So, I now live in the shadow of the unknown. My pediatrician delighted in telling me to "Get ready." when I was panicked about the physicial changes my nine-year-old daughter was suddenly going through.

I seriously thought it was a thyroid problem, she gleefully told me it was puberty.

I am not ready for this. I will never be ready for this. I just figured out the kids I've got and now I have to get ready for kids I can't even imagine. I have heard some horror stories from other parents...something to do with hormones, driving, and dating. I am not sure what they mean.

All I can say, is stay-tuned. It is nice that most mental health facilities seem to have internet access in the 21st century. It will make it much easier to keep up these posts when I check out on permanent, loony-ville vacation and try to become someone else, just to keep up with my children.